The abbey has many carvings; flowers and leaves, animals, birds and strange creatures for whom I have no names. Perhaps the strangest amongst this stone host are the heads decorating windows and doorways.
Who are they? Kings and queens, perhaps? Angels? I do not know. They watch the comings and goings of all those who live in the abbey, and sometimes, at dusk, I sense their stone-eyed stares following me as I pass by. It can be unsettling, and I will admit, there is one head I do not care to look at too closely. He - for I think it it a man, though the weathered features hide their origins well - is known as the Owl Man. It is a curiously fitting name, and I am not alone in finding him a sinister presence. It is not unusual to see my fellow monks bless themselves as they hurry past.
Time and the weather has not been kind to the Owl Man, nor to some of the other heads at the abbey. Shaped by wind and rain to nightmare creatures, they are strange companions as we go about our daily work.
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